


Up The Ante

by Mikimoo



Series: Games [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nonsense, pure fluff and nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikimoo/pseuds/Mikimoo
Summary: Dick and Jason eat more home cooked food and have a Poker rematch. Jason fails to learn his lesson, but wins anyway. Sort of.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Games [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945837
Comments: 18
Kudos: 220





	Up The Ante

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a hard few weeks at work, so instead of writing something sensible I wrote this. It is fluff and nonsense and follows on from Raise The Stakes

“That smells like spicy heaven,” Dick said, leaning over the gently bubbling pot and getting much further into Jason's personal space than he should have.

Jason grunted. He had offered to cook for Dick _one time_ in thanks for the goulash recipe. But somehow, without his permission, one time had now been four times, five including this one. He was not entirely sure how that had happened.

“What is it?” Dick asked, curious.

“Doro Wat,” Jason said, “Tikil Gomen,” he pointed to the third pot, and Shiro Wat. It’s Ethiopian.”

Dick grinned at him. “You seem determined to take me on a culinary world tour with your cooking – not that I’m complaining! That Indian curry you made last time blew my socks off, literally.”

Jason sighed. “Not literally, Dick, and it was a Sri Lankan curry.”

“It was awesome.”

It had been, if Jason did say so himself. An excellent recipe, gifted to him during down time on his travels.

To be fair, Jason couldn't complain, he’d found that he liked cooking for Dick; they shared a taste for the spicier things in life, and Dick was enthusiastic, _very_ enthusiastic, about eating good food. Less so about the cooking part, but he was happy to chop veg and stir sauces, so it worked out okay.

“Get small plates for the bread, and wash your hands. It’s finger food,” Jason said.

Dick looked at the warm brown stew doubtfully, but didn't object to being ordered about. He even put down table mats – shockingly, it turned out the man _could_ be trained into reasonable house keeping.

Jason laid the injera bread over the large shallow dish, and spooned the various stews and vegetables on top. He had briefly considered attempting to make the bread himself, but had eventually decided to get some from the small Ethiopian deli he occasionally frequented. His previous attempts had not met his exacting standards, and he didn’t like the thought of presenting food that wasn't his best.

They sat at his low coffee table and Dick rubbed his hands in childlike expectation. He really was a caricature of a person sometimes, but despite the ridiculousness, it was just so _genuine_. It was hard not to find it endearing.

“So, how do we eat it with no forks?” Dick asked.

Jason tore off a bit of his bread and showed him how to scoop the stew to eat, careful not to get it on his fingers or drop it in his lap.

“Amaze.” Dick actually managed to avoid dropping any as he took his first mouthful, and then made a face of bliss. “Oh my god, how have I never eaten this before? It’s so complex. I love it.” He proceeded to stuff another mouthful in before he was even done talking.

Something in the deep dark of Jason's burnt out heart _glowed_.

How embarrassing.

Jason tried to force his face into a scowl to cover his pride at the praise, and focused on the joy of introducing someone to a new food. “Try this one.”

Dick scooped. “How does yellow mush taste so damn good, Jaybird? How!”

“Spice and a really good recipe,” Jason said. The food had a lot of heat and he hoped that that would be an adequate excuse for the blush on his cheeks. It should, Dick looked a little warm and red faced himself.

There was something strangely intimate about sharing the same dish of food, fingers brushing as they got towards the end of the shared plate, and that plus a cold beer had given Jason a pleasant buzz.

“That was so good,” Dick said, and Jason was never going to be used to hearing so much praise from him. It was like a drug.

“I’m glad you enjoyed.”

Dick, sat on the floor with his head slumped against the seat of the sofa, grinned lazily. “Where you going to take me next with this food journey?”

“Take _you_? It’s your turn, Dickhead.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not a good cook, not like you. Who wants to eat my mostly out a jar bolognese, when we could eat this awesome stuff?

“Sorry, Dickie, that ship has sailed, I’ve eaten granny's goulash, and I know you have the skill to make something fantastic, you’re just lazy.”

Dick pouted. “Fine, I suppose I could make perogi, I can make the cabbage and mushroom ones pretty good.” He grinned lopsidedly, “You can help me kneed the dough.”

That sounded almost suggestive, but Jason couldn’t be sure - there was nothing overtly sexual about kneading was there?

Dick chuckled at him, and drew out the dreaded pack of cards. “So, ready for a rematch, Little Wing?”

Jason sneered a little, although too content to muster up much ire. “I hate that nickname, it doesn't even make sense. It didn't make sense when I was Robin, and it makes even less now.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Dick said, like that was the end of it. “So, poker?”

Jason sighed. He had a feeling he was going to regret this. “Fine.”

Dick took his time shuffling, and Jason kept a sharp eye the cards just in case he was plotting some cheating. He had discovered that rather unsurprisingly, Dick was also very good at a bit of sleight of hand.

“Hurry up then, what’s wrong, nervous?” Jason said, but he realised, Dick _did_ seem a little twitchy, like he was planning something and wasn’t sure how it would work out.

But at Jason's words he grinned, as confident as if the past minute of anxious shuffling had never been. “So, do you want to up the ante?” Dick asked with a wink.

All his nerves seem to have disappeared like they had never been, and now he had that look in his eye, the one he’d had when he’d hustled Jason for the first time; sneaky and gleeful.

And just like the last time, Jason could’t quite bring himself to be sensible. “Up the ante how?” he asked cautiously, he already knew he would end up loosing to whatever nefarious scheme Dick had up his sleeve. (hopefully not a pair of aces like the last time they had played)

Dick waved a hand. “The traditional sort of ante upping, between two slightly buzzed buddies, playing a private poker game with a few beers.”

Jason gave him a long look, even as his heart rate jumped; because he knew what Dick was going to suggest. He knew, and he couldn't make himself say no – wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to. “Go on,” he said, foolishly.

“Strip poker, _obviously_ ,” Dick grinned, his expression warring between mischievous and guileless.

God, Jason was so fucked.

“What kind of traditions you indulging in? Pretty sure the usual context for strip poker isn’t ‘two buzzed buddies’, except maybe in porn.”

“Whatevs. You in?” Dick wagged the cards temptingly, or possibly threateningly.

Jason considered. Hustling aside, he was good at poker, as good as Dick, so although he might embarrass himself a little, he might also get the opportunity to make Dick strip … and the temptation was just too much. The images his mind offered up were _very_ inciting, and apparently enough for him to completely dispense with common sense.

Big mistake, it turned out.

“Fine,” he said, holding out a hand for the cards. “But I deal, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

Dick smiled like kittens and rainbows and the personification of innocence.

“Traditional Texas Holdem, the looser removes one item of clothing,” Dick said, far too causally.

Frowning at him, Jason did take a moment to _try_ to see the trap- or the loop hole Dick was going to attempt to jump though. “No putting on clothing already discarded,” he said.

Dick slumped a little and pouted, but then rallied, and shrugged. “Those are the rules, let's play.”

_Such_ a big mistake.

The first round went to Dick, who graciously allowed Jason to choose the item of clothing he would remove: A sock. Not too bad, but the truth was, he was flustered and very distracted. Not just with the thought of making Dick get naked for him, or the fact that he might have to strip himself, but with why. _Why_ had Dick suggested this game? No matter what Dick seemed to think, two buddies with no ulterior motives just wouldn't play this, would they? It was flirting, it had to be. A weird manipulative Dick kind of flirting to be sure, but definitely it was the beginning of something… sexual? Romantic? Sharing a home cooked meal and having a casual but intimate conversation, _that_ was a lot more romantic than strip poker. But this was Dick, who it turned out, really liked to play games.

So anyway, Jason was struggling to concentrate, and the next round went to Dick too.

Now barefoot, Jason forced himself to focus; really focus. He lay down a straight flush, watching Dick's face fall a little. _Finally_.

It was about this point that Jason realised what the ‘that’s the rules!’ song and dance had been about, and the fact that he had just been hustled.

Again.

With his usual dramatic flare, Dick tugged off a sock…. revealing… another sock.

Dick grinned, showing a lot of teeth. No wonder he had been hot and red faced earlier.

Jason, full of vague horror, couldn’t help but wonder just how many pairs he was wearing. “Cheating!” he said, indignant and slightly panicked.

“Nope. The rule was; no re-adding of clothes. No rules about how much you can wear to start.”

“Bad sportsmanship,” Jason growled, unable to articulate the complicated mess of feelings that included a healthy mix of dread, embarrassment and intense admiration.

“Guess how many pairs of shorts I’m wearing!” Dick declared, his eyes crinkling happily. Jason threw his cards at the assholes head and watched him topple to the side, howling with laughter.

The sound of it filled Jason with a _feeling,_ a really good feeling _._ He had always found Dick attractive, always wanted to fuck him, but that was it. He was hot, very good at his job – too good in Jason's opinion, and superficially likeable – at least, other people liked him; because he was nice, and fun, or something. But Jason had never trusted that part. Not really. He accepted his attraction the as the crush that it was, and that was that. But spending time with him off the clock, seeing him laugh like that, was planting feelings in him he wasn’t really equipped to cope with. He watched for a moment, while Dick giggled and made a noise like a deranged hyena dying in a swamp - He had a really stupid sounding laugh.

And Jason found it _charming_.

God, that was bad. Really really bad. But he couldn’t stop feeling _good_ about it.

Apparently even his impending humiliation couldn’t dent the happy feeling in his chest, so he went to fetch the scotch, while Dick hiccuped, sweated and snickered in his many pairs of shorts and possibly unlimited socks.

Dick wanted to see him naked? Fine. Jason didn’t back down form a challenge, and frankly, Dick had no idea the kind of man he was dealing with.

He poured them both a glass, set the scotch on the table, and reshuffled the cards. Time to bluff like his life depended on it.

They played.

Dick finally had one bare foot by the time Jason had to take his t-shirt off. He was buzzed from the scotch, and resigned to loosing, but he was going to loose with _style_. Casually, he gripped the hem of his shirt, watching Dick's face from below his lashes. Dick looked intent, but also like he was tried _not_ to look intent. Two buddies playing strip poker. Right.

As nonchalantly as he could given the circumstances, Jason tugged his shirt up and over his head.

He had been trained by some of the best killers in the world, he’d died and come back – he should be above the fear he might get his limbs or face stuck in the fabric of his t-shirt while stripping during a dumb game of poker. Good _god_.

Thankfully he managed to extract himself in one smooth motion, like a normal person, and toss the shirt to the side like he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He fought down another blush. He had nothing to hide or to worry about, he was a fit guy, he knew that. His body was nothing to be ashamed of, even the scars, considering the company. But he wasn’t as comfortable as Dick with casual nudity, he had seen Dick naked _so many_ times growing up, far too many for his horny teenage brain to cope with. The bastard would wander in and out of the cave showers without a stitch on and without a care in the world, while Jason sweated nervously and failed to avoid getting an eye full.

Jason had been awkward then, and he was awkward now. Hence the bluff.

Settling back on his hands still watching Dick's face, he flexed a little. He watched the way Dick's eyes dilated slightly, the way the tip of his tongue appeared to wet his lips. And suddenly, he realised that despite the situation, he might have some power here after all.

Resisting a smirk, he reached for his glass, and ‘accidentally’ dribbled a bit of his drink on his chest, before wiping it absently away.

Dick lost the next round.

And the one after that.

Dick had reached the end of his many, many socks by the time he got his head back in the game. Clearly Jason's second deliberate dribble of whisky over his abs had alerted Dick to his tactics, and he sent Jason a mock glare before laying out his cards.

Two pair; kings and threes. Soundly beating Jason's pair of eights. Damn it.

Taking off his pants was harder than the shirt, but he got up to do it; brazen and as in your face as Dick was. He didn’t undo his zipper all the way, so he had to push his cargo pants down over the meat of his thighs before stepping out of them.

He risked a glance at Dick, and yeah, this was definitely a sex thing; there was no other possible way to interpret the hungry look on Dick's face.

That was not an expression Jason was used to being the recipient of, but he resisted downing his scotch to soothe his sudden nerves and instead took a sip, refusing to acknowledge the look on Dick's face as he sat back down and taking the deck to shuffle.

There was a pause, in which Dick seemed to be trying to get his face back under his control. “Music!” he said suddenly, his voice loud after the long silence, broken only by the snap of the cards in Jason's hands “That’s what were missing, some music!” he got up, heading for the sound system and Jason's rather old fashioned selection of cd’s and vinyl.

“There’s some Brazilian jazz?” Jason suggested.

Dick pursed his lips, “Vocal or instrumental?”

“Instrumental.”’

“No, hate it.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Well choose something you don’t hate, Dickface.”

He finally selected something soft and folky, but still Brazilian, perhaps as an apology for his dismissal of Jason's taste in jazz.

“Know any good Brazilian food, Jay.”

“I sure do. But I ain’t cooking it for you– it’s your turn, for the next five dinners at least. Maybe _you_ should cook something Brazilian.”

“Hmm,” Dick said, and Jason suspected he was scheming his way out of at least three of those cooking dates. The cooking part at least.

And holy shit, had they been dates? Were they dating? Jason hadn’t dated-dated, since, well, ever.

His head was suddenly spinning.

He had to focus, he was hanging onto his dignity and his shorts by his fingernails, so he fought back the only way he could think of - he rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to keep it casual, like he was scratching an itch. But he could feel his face flush as the calluses on his palm caught on his nipple. It sent a shiver up his spine, and he could feel the blush spreading down his chest. Thankfully the only person more distracted by the motion than Jason, was Dick – who lost the hand and his shirt.

The next hand went to Jason too, although through pure luck, and allowed him to finally get Dick out of his pants.

Like Jason, Dick stood to make a show of stripping off his jeans. And like Jason he started slow, popping the buttons, with his hips cocked somewhere between jaunty and sexy. He looked flushed and the air was thick with tension. Being trained to fight from an early age, tension tended to make Jason’s adrenaline pump hard – which was normally a good thing, but less so in this situation. It was a new experience for him, and it was giving him flight or fight feelings; he had to force himself to keep sitting, keep outwardly calm. It was not a pleasant sensation.

But then Dick, went... full Dick; effortlessly, thoughtfully, and with no shame at all.

He bent to take off the rest of his pants, hiding himself until he could straighten, jeans in hand.

_Bend and snap_ , Jason's brain helpfully provided.

He tossed them aside and grinned. Jason's eyes couldn't help but drift down - and then he let rip a snort of undignified laugher, all the tension in his body shifting from the surprise of it: Dick was wearing a pair of tighty whities over the top of what looked like Superman themed boxer briefs. It was the most ridiculous, unsexy, _absurd_ thing Jason had ever seen in his life.

Any lingering discomfort along with the thrumming, coiled, anxious energy just melted out of him as he laughed helplessly. Dick looked unspeakably proud of himself - not something that one should normally be expressing when displaying such an appalling ensemble. But there it was.

“What do you want if you win, Jay?” Dick asked, voice a little sultry, cards still abandoned, scattered like petals on the floor.

Jason made the mistake of looking at him again, and started laughing so hard he nearly swallowed his tongue. “Whatever you feel like giving me, Dickie,” he gasped at last, “Whatever you want.”

Dick smiled, warm and with a surprisingly soft look. “Shouldn’t that be when I win?”

“It’s all the same really, isn’t it? You weirdo,” Jason managed, wiping actual tears from his eyes.

Still without any sign of shame, Dick straddled his lap, grinning down at him. “Kiss me and I’ll forfeit the game,” he said.

He didn't have to ask twice.

“Oh my god,” Jason cackled, “how much underwear are you _wearing_! How did you sit and eat with all this shit covering your junk?” He was three pairs in, and there were still more to be shed.

Tugging down the second to last pair (he _hoped_ they were the last) revealed a red, yellow and green jock with a big R in the middle.

“Like it?” Dick asked, dissolving into laughter again.

Jason couldn't remember ever having lost the plot to this level, snorting and giggling like a little kid unwrapping a joke gift. Dick's dying hyaena whoops were just making it worse. Jason wasn’t even fully hard any more, he was laughing so much. It was freeing, like layers of dirt were being lifted from him and Dick's pleasure was infectious, joyous.

“Dick, that’s _horrible_ ,” he managed, “the only thing worse would be the Bat symbol.”

“I considered it,” Dick admitted, flushed and grinning, his own cock not flagging in the least and tenting the Robin themed jock admirably. And also appallingly.

“But I thought it might be a bit much.”

“And this _wasn’t_?”

Dick pulled him by the hair so he could kiss him, Jason could feel the smile against his mouth.

“Jay?” Dick pulled away from the kiss, eyes soulful, and brimming with lust and feeling. “Jay?”

“Yeah?” Jason said, dazed.

“Cook me Brazilian food?”

“Oh, nice try, but no, you sneaky bastard,” Jason slapped Dick’s flank making him squeak and flush a deeper red. “ _You’r_ _e_ cooking next.”

Dick undulated against him slightly, squirming and needy. “Please, Jay?”

“No.”

“I’ll suck you off if you do.”

Jason pulled back and looked down at him with a smirk. “Dick, not being arrogant here, but I kind of feel you’re going to do that anyway.”

Dick pouted and then laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Then his lip curled into an answering smirk, “but let's face it, you’re going to cook it for me anyway, aren't you?”

“You wish, asshole,” Jason retorted. But he was probably right, the fucker, and it must have shown on his face.

Dick cackled and Jason went back in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I love to eat/cook Ethiopian food, I highly recommend it!


End file.
